


Not With a Bang

by flammablehat



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, Background Dubious Consent, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Multi, Team Gluttony, Unhappy Ending, implied major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/pseuds/flammablehat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope is an opiate until it runs dry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not With a Bang

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Summerpornathon '12, challenge 2. Kindly ignore my fail!science, dear readers. Title taken from Eliot's "The Hollow Men" because I am horrendously unoriginal and really enjoyed its similar application in this week's entry #69 (and thus stole it for my title). Still waiting to discover who you are, beautiful author of entry #69.

Gwaine stumbled out of the woods and into a military compound. He knew it was military because the building was a giant, windowless cement cube.

If that hadn’t clued him in, his immediate tasering would’ve done the trick.

XXX

Gwaine woke to a swimmy green and gold vision. He blinked. The vision resolved itself into a very stern looking man in uniform.

“Mind explaining how you waltzed onto my base through a red zone with a clean health profile?” Blondie said.

“Oh, that?” Gwaine grinned, licking blood off his teeth. Probably bit his tongue when they zapped him. “I’m immune, I guess. Crawled through swarms of all-too-willing volunteers, but hey, I enjoy a chase—” he stopped, eyes widening at the sudden ring of rifle muzzles circling him. “Uh. Wrong thing to say?”

“That depends,” Blondie said, wary now.

“On what?”

“Whether or not you’re a carrier.”

XXX

“The problem,” the cute guy in the lab coat with the charming ears explained, “is that we don’t know enough about this disease. Some patients present immediately, while others go weeks without showing symptoms and unwittingly pass on the pathogen.” 

“You think I’m the latter?” Gwaine asked, submitting the inside of his cheek and back of his hand for mucus and tissue samples.

“That’s the thing,” Ears said. “Your blood panels came back clean. We have no reason to think you’re a carrier, but it’s not worth the risk.”

XXX

There’d been rumours of quarantine camps on the outside. The following day, Gwaine got to see them.

From a safe distance two stories above them, he watched the infected writhe and rut, fucking in pairs and groups and using the few “safety verified” government-issued toys.

It might’ve been erotic, were it not for the...noises. Desperate, plaintive — an agonized cacophony muffled through three feet of glass.

Gwen, another member of Team Science (so dubbed by Gwaine), patted his shoulder as she led him back to the commons.

XXX

Gwen was the first casualty.

She’d been drawing blood from a patient in solitary. Morgana. None of the other patients had names; Gwaine understood enough to know Morgana was a special case.

Morgana lifted Gwen’s helmet and kissed her. Gwen didn’t stop her. Soldiers were storming the corridor before their lips separated, but Gwen was quick. She threw her body at the door, security protocols automatically sealing them inside.

The surveillance team erupted into chaos. Gwaine stared at the live feed, watched Gwen press her hands to her ears, shaking her head.

Over the open comm, the sound of orders and alarms and marching boots slowly quieted to one voice.

“Gwen!” Merlin shouted, followed by the muffled thump of his fists hitting the door. “Gwen! Gwen, no! _Gwen_ ,” he choked off on a jagged sound. A hushing noise, and the comm went dead.

XXX

Gwaine skipped the updated protocol briefing and wandered the greenhouse instead. Gwen had toured him here too, explaining any hope of a cure would be found organically, not synthetically.

Hearing muffled voices, he froze, searching out the source.

Under a small copse of trees, Arthur rocked Merlin in a tight embrace, letting him shake and weep against his shoulder. Gwaine retreated quietly when Arthur slipped to his knees before Merlin, gripping his narrow hips in two large hands.

XXX

Team Science was hobbled without her. Team Military brought back increasingly unsavoury reports from the outside.

The mood in the compound downshifted to desperate.

They lost three more patients to complications from the infection.

Arthur cut the surveillance feed from Morgana’s cell.

XXX

“Gwen said the key to finding the cure was natural,” Gwaine pressed. “What if you’re just missing...the right ingredients?”

“We are. A fundamental molecular sequence from her model. Our resources are limited, so our best bet is a synthetic recreation,” Merlin said dully.

Gwaine raked his hands through his hair. He was no scientist.

XXX

They brought Edwin inside because his initial tests ran clean. _Like Gwaine_ , they’d thought.

But Edwin’s virus was an unfamiliar strain: mutated, virulent. He’d spit in Merlin’s face and laughed, hysterical, before Arthur put a bullet between his eyes.

Too late.

XXX

Merlin tried to run. Arthur caught him and shoved him into a wall; kissed him.

Merlin backhanded him so hard Arthur’s nose broke, blood splattering onto the pavement.

Gwaine helped separate them; it was unclear whether they were fighting or clinging to each other.

XXX

It didn’t occur to him until much later, as he washed Pendragon red from his hands and beard.

It hit Gwaine, with a gut-lancing sense of clarity, that his blood was an organic compound too.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [hope is an opiate (the not with a bang remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/720562) by [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery)




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